Teeth Stained Black
by LadyEpic101
Summary: Farfelee and her cousins have lived their entire lives hearing horror stories about Orcs and what they did to villages and the women within.The three are captured by Azog and their village is destroyed. They are taken as slaves and their future seems dim. Well, until one of them defends herself against an orc, killing him in the process. (Shit Summary, maybe Azog/OC)
1. Chapter 1

**"Black Speech." **

_Thought._

* * *

"Wargs from the north!" A farmer ran through the dirt roads of the small village, "Wargs and Orcs!"

The old farmer continued spreading his warning through the town. Men, women, and children rushed into their homes, the braver of them exiting with weapons and armor rusted from ages of not seeing battle nor proper care. Amid the chaos, a bent figure hobbled, trying desperately to attract someone, anyone's attention. She grabbed tightly onto the belt of a young man rushing to the northern edge of the town.

"My granddaughters! Have you seen my granddaughters? Please, please, help me find them!" The old woman implored, faded blue eyes misting with tears of desperation.

"I'm sorry, I do not know where they are. But, wherever they are," He pulled away from her and began to jog away, "It is far safer than here!"

* * *

"The air is heavy today," Krea drawled, turning her mournful green eyes to the cloudy twilight sky. She pulled a ripe berry from its resting place in the bush. "I thank thee, bush, for giving unto me this wonderful fruit of-"

"Oh shut it, you sound like an elf," Maerwynn scowled, pushing her black hair over her shoulder. She did not approve of her sister's strange habits. People were going to start talking of madness, and she couldn't let that tarnish her reputation.

"Both of you shut up," Farfelee retorted from the other side of the berry patch. Her cousins could just be so annoying sometimes.

"I sense ill-omens on the horizon, my kin," Krea set down her basket, turning her eyes skyward. Her dark brown hair swayed in the wind. She lifted her palms to the sky and stared into the still sky.

"Ow!" She quickly returned to Middle Earth.

"What? What is it?" Maerwynn asked, concerned for her sibling's safety.

"I got a raindrop in my eye!" Krea lowered her hand from rubbing her eye to reveal a slightly bloodshot green iris.

"Oh you are so dramatic! Really, you should perform in the Harvest Festival!" Farfelee called from the path to the village. Her cousins ran to catch up to her.

The chatty maidens missed the pair of yellow eyes watching them from behind the copse of oaks at the edge of the berry patch.

* * *

Azog ambled through the wreckage of the human village. He smiled in satisfaction at the burning and crushed homes. His white warg padded up to his side, nudging his whole arm in greeting.

**"Sir,"** A scrawny-looking orc called from behind.

**"What is it?" **Azog growled.

**"The survivors have been gathered. We need you to choose who goes to the wargs," **

**"Lead on, then."**

* * *

_We are all going to die._ Farfelee ran with her cousins, shoes thundering down the path. An orc on a mottled brown warg followed closely at their heels. Krea screamed for the umpteenth time. Farfelee had half a mind to tell her to shut her mouth, but she needed all the air she could get to escape from their pursuer. Farfelee's feet were knocked out from underneath her. She hurtled through air for half a heartbeat before her face made contact with the dirt. She felt two bodies squirming next to her and some sort of net she could feel in every direction. Dread settled itself in her stomach. She had heard tales of what Orcs did to maidens they kidnapped from captured villages. She could only hope the rumors were false.

The orc dismounted and snickered, strutting over to his prize. He hefted the three squirming girls onto the back of his warg and climbed on after them; they headed towards the decimated settlement. Farfelee stared at the ground moving swiftly beneath and to the side of them. She decided to save her energy for whatever was to come. Her cousins continued to scream and cry and flail and protest, but their captor paid them no heed.

He was congratulating himself. His first raid and he captured three able-bodied (as far as he could tell) humans. Azog would be pleased with him, wouldn't he?

* * *

The Pale Orc surveyed the captives before him. Mostly women and children had survived the attack, though a handful of men remained. The latter would be who he examined first. He was about to walk closer to the first man, an aging blacksmith, but the sounds of screams and pleas for freedom reached his ears before he could. Brokil rode in from a side road. As his warg slowed to a halt, he tossed down a net filled with three squirming maidens. Well, two squirming maidens, as a blonde one had just slipped out through the open side of the net.

"Farfelee!" A blonde man stepped towards the maiden before an orc brought a blade to his throat.

"Leofrick?" Krea asked in disbelief as she too slipped her way out of the net. Maerwynn soon joined her kin on the outside of the rope trap.

Azog looked between Leofrick and Farfelee. Deciding to have a bit of fun, he stepped towards the fresh captives, he closed the distance between them in three enormous strides.

"Stay away from her!"

Azog looked back over his shoulder at the small man. Small to him, anyway. Tossing a vicious grin over his shoulder, he began to circle the blonde maiden, running the prongs of his prosthetic arm through her hair as he did. The terrified girl stood as still as possible, hoping desperately that he'd move onto one of her cowering cousins.

**"What shall we do with his whore?" **Azog called to the surrounding orcs.

**"Kill her!"**

**"Take her!"**

**"Make them fight!"**

This final cry earned a roar of approval. The Defiler grinned at his bloodthirsty pack. He shoved Farfelee forward onto the dirt. She and Leofrick stared at each other, wondering what was to become of them. The large white orc returned, carrying a large branch. He snapped it over his knee, creating two sharp points. He examined the points for a brief second before tossing one to each human.

**"Fight to the death," **Azog growled, turning his back and pacing over to his warg.

Farfelee looked at the half-branch in front of her, then back at her cousins. Krea mouthed something to her. Maerwynn shouted it.

"Fight!"

Farfelee scrambled to grab the branch in front of her, standing just in time to block a strike from Leo. Farfelee remained on the defensive, blocking overhead and backhand strikes left and right and above. In a move she had not anticipated, Leo turned the branch in his grasp and slashed across her cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. Farfelee's mouth dropped into an offended 'o' shape. She brushed her hand on her cheek then brought it in front of her face. She dropped her branch and punched Leo square in his jaw, snapping his head to the side and knocking him unconscious.

Laughter sprang up from the orcs. It was jarring, harsh and terrible. Azog strode over to the victor and grabbed her wrist, raising her arm in the air and almost picking her up off her feet. He roared, half-amused, half-triumphant. The gathered orcs responded with an even louder roar. Azog dragged Farfelee over to his warg, where anothe orc bound her hands and feet. The white orc tossed her over the back of his warg and made to leave the remains of the village.

**"Sir, what do you want us to do with the captives?" **A fat orc called after his retreating form.

**"Kill the men and the children, gather the women," **Azog spurred his warg into a run and was gone, heading back to Weathertop.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh I hate this part," Farfelee grumbled, picking up the stinking basket of Orc laundry. She may have only had to do this once a month, but it was awful. She was certain that some of them only washed their clothes once a year. She walked out of the cave that her 'masters' called home and down a steep trail to the medium sized river below.

She and her cousins had been enslaved for three months. It hadn't been easy, but they were lucky. The older and more developed women had been, _taken, _ by the orc men. Farfelee still shuddered at the memory of her first night there, listening to the pained screams of the women in the night and looking at their hollow, listless eyes in the morning.

She pushed the memory to the back of her mind and set to the disgusting task at hand.

The first loincloth she picked up smelled like someone had pissed themselves in it. She gagged and dropped it into the second, larger basket she carried down earlier. It had large holes in it to allow water to pass through it. She took the gritty, scentless soap she had been given for the washing today. Each loincloth seemed to be worse than the last. Sometimes, she could identify the owners by smell, which horrified her. Thank the stars that there were a few pairs of pants to break up the foul monotony that is Orcish laundry.

Near the bottom of the basket, Farfelee's hand came into contact with stiff leather. Slowly, she pulled out Azog's belt. It was almost entirely clean, except for the mud splattered up the side. A soft breeze blew her hair back, bringing with it Azog's scent from his belt. For a moment, the musk addled her brain, causing her to drop the belt into the river.

"Oh no, no, no," She hiked up her skirt and ran down the bank, losing sight of the belt as it turned a corner in the stream. Her heart sank into her stomach. She rounded the outcropping of rock that blocked her view of the rest of the river. In her blind rush, she ran into a tree.

But trees aren't smooth, nor are they warm, nor do they smell like wet pine needles.

Slowly, and with wide eyes, Farfelee backed away from a wetand half naked Azog. His bright blue eyes looked down on her in faint curiosity. He held up his belt that he had rescued while he was rinsing blood from today's hunt off in the river. He looked at the belt and back at her.

"I-i-i dropp-pp-pped it o-on accident," Farfelee stared at the ground between them, fully expecting Azog him to toss her into the river to drown. Instead, he pushed the belt into her arms and pushed past her, returning to the cave. A heavy sigh left her lips. She honestly thought that she was a goner!

Farfelee scuffed her way back to the laundry basket. She hefted the wet clothes into it; she lifted it onto her hip- it was far heavier than earlier- and lumbered her way back to the mouth of the cave. She was about to lay the clothing out to dry when a gruff voice interrupted.

"Take girl gather water,"

Farfelee turned, looking at the ground. She learned that it was best not to look an Orc in the eye, lest they take it as a challenge. The Orc handed her a tightly woven basket and pointed her back towards the river. Sighing quietly, Farfelee obeyed and headed back towards the quick-flowing creek. She was surprised when the Orc followed her. He must have noticed when she kept looking over her shoulder at him.

"Make sure not run," Was his simple reply.

After a tense five minute walk that seemed to take five hours, they reached a stretch of river that was visible from the cave mouth. Farfelee bent down to scoop up water when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"No. Farther," He grunted, pointing to a more secluded area. Farfelee had no choice but to obey, and she walked twenty feet down the river before bending down again.

And again, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"No. _Farther,_" The Orc grunted again.

A nagging feeling settled in the pit of the woman's stomach. But again, she walked 20 feet down the river. She couldn't see the cave or the cliff it rested on anymore. Again, she knelt down and dipped the basket into the river. She nearly dropped the basket when she felt a rough hand slip under the back of her tunic. Slowly, and with wide eyes, she turned to see a malicious grin on the Orc's disfigured face. (He was rather ugly, even for an orc.) She shook her head, hoping that the gesture might stop him. It didn't. He flipped her around, sliding his hand painfully slowly up her stomach. Impatiently, he ripped the tunic off, leaning back to take in her body. He stretched his neck so he could bury his nose in her hair, inhaling the spicy aroma. He didn't have time to scream when he felt a sharp pain in his throat.

Farfelee bit down on his throat with all of her might. She felt her teeth cut through his vocal cords and arteries as gritty, foul tasting blood filled her mouth. He let go of her, causing her to fall backwards and rip a chunk out of his neck. He stumbled in a circle before falling down, still bleeding. His beady yellow eyes stared at the human woman in disbelief before rolling back in their sockets. Farfelee watched him spasm in death before turning around and vomiting into the river. Desperately, she rinsed her tongue with mouthfuls of water, desperately trying to get the foul taste out of her mouth. Shakily, she looked into the deceptively calm surface of the water and looked at her teeth. The thin lines where each tooth met were blackened, as well as where tooth met gum. Try as she might, she could not get the black stains to go away.

Farfelee picked her ripped tunic off of the ground. There was enough of it to salvage until she got back to the cave, but it would be skimpier than what she was used to. Carefully, she tore small strips of fabric until she was left with a risque, ragged top that barely reached the middle of her rib cage. It would have to do. She minced quickly along the river bank, looking over her shoulder every few steps half-expecting her attacker to be pursuing her. Finally, she reached the cave mouth. Everyone was inside, too busied with their own chores to notice the scantily clad girl snatch an intact tunic from the laundry pile. Seeing that she had no choice, Farfelee quickly pulled off her makeshift top, leaving her bare for a heartbeat, and shimmied into a nearly-too-small outfit. Quietly, discreetly, she began to lay out the damp clothing on the sun baked rock. After she finished, she rushed inside the cave, hugging the wall to let a scouting party consisting of Azog and three other Orcs passe. The Defiler looked down at her for a moment before exiting the cavern. It was nothing more than a casual glance, but Farfelee began to become paranoid. Did Azog know? Was there a black stain on her somewhere she couldn't see? Something she missed?

She managed to hold herself together through the rest of her chores and dinner. She was already lying down asleep when a furious roar jarred her awake. Azog burst into the slaves' sleeping quarters, glaring at the huddled masses. He said something in Black Speech. A scrawny Orc, the same one who had captured Farfelee and her kin, translated. The dead body of a dead Orc was found down the river. His throat was bitten out. He knew that it was not a wild animal, for there were no other wounds, and scraps of cloth matching the material the slaves wore was found nearby.

Farfelee cursed inwardly. Why hadn't she pushed the cloth, or even the body into the river?

Azog continued, and so did the translator.

"All line. Azog check mouth. Black teeth means killer," he finished, urging them out of their quarters and into a line.

Farfelee was near the end. She could not see Krea or Maery. Azog walked down the line, stopping at the largest and strongest of slaves. He passed over Farfelee. Growling, he waved those he had already checked away. The line dwindled as he repeated this three or four times. Krea and Maerwynn were dismissed after the second and third pass, respectively. Only Farfelee and twelve others were left.

Azog was going to wave the girl away. She was far too small and weak to have overpowered one of his best warriors. Just before he lifted his hand to wave her away, he inspected her more closely. She was trembling, though it was hardly noticeable. Her gaze was down, not straight ahead like all of the other slaves. Azog had to kneel to get to her level, his head slightly lower than hers.

**"Open," **He growled.

The girl looked at him with terrified eyes. Her lips trembled as she slowly parted them until her lower front teeth were visible.

Black.


	3. Chapter 3

Azog grabbed Farfelee's lower jaw roughly, forcing it open farther. He refused to believe that this tiny, _insignificant_, slave girl was able to best one of his better fighters. He was about to rip her jaw off when an idea sprung to mind. A wicked grin spread across his face, causing the human in front of him to tremble. He let go of her and stood up. He turned his back to her to look around for Brokul.

**"Brokul," **He barked, summoning the thin orc to him.

**"Sir,"** Brokul bowed low.

**"This girl was found with two others, correct?"**

**"Yes, sir. They are in the slave's quarters as we speak,"**

**"Bring them to me,"**

Brokul almost sprinted to the small, cramped chamber that the slaves shared. Azog shouted orders to the orcs gathered, leaving Farfelee to wonder at her possible fate. Maybe they would hang her, either to snap her neck or strangle her. Maybe they would cut off her head and skin it, and Azog would it add it to his loincloth. It was during the first night at Weathertop -the halfway point between her village and the cave- that she realized it was made of faces. Maybe they would ravage her, leave her for dead or feed her to the wargs. Whatever happened to her, she knew it was going to be disgusting and painful.

"Farfelee!" Krea shouted in disbelief as she followed Brokul and Maerwynn to her trembling cousin.

**"Tell them this," **Azog began, crouching down in front of Farfelee to look her in the eye.

**"Those two will have until sunrise to hide in the forest around the river. At dawn, the Biter will hunt them down and kill them, or," **

He paused to allow time for translation. Krea and Maerwynn paled. Farfelee listened intently for Azog's next words.

**"I will kill her,"** He held her gaze, knowing full well that she understood what he said. Slaves usually learned enough words for simple things, such as water or fire, but she had picked up on more aspects of the language rather quickly. He remembered when he first noticed her proficiency.

* * *

**_"Whore,"_**_A stocky orc called to the blonde girl, **"Bring me the fur under the black one," **He had forgotten that the slaves did not speak their language. A passerby who was able to speak both languages was about to translate, but the girl had already walked over to the pile of furs, lifted up the ink colored pelt, and was pulling the gray one from underneath it. She gathered it in her arms and walked back to the orc, offering it with her head bowed. Azog watched from the entrance to his quarters, surprised that she had understood a complex order. He brushed it off as a convenient trait, returning to his room to sleep._

* * *

Farfelee sat in the slave quarters, apart from everyone else. They knew something had happened when Krea and Maerwynn were taken earlier and did not return. An older woman, back bent and fingers gnarled from so many years of work under the orcs, hobbled to her.

"What happened, child?" She rasped.

She had to lie.

"He killed them. The pale one. He told me that they would let me go into the forest at sunrise and hunt me down," Farfelee sobbed, and looked up at the old woman. "Please don't let me die," Tears spilled down her face.

Several other women came to her and consoled her, cooing to her that she would be alright, as a mother would soothe a child afraid of the dark. They thought she cried because she was afraid. And she did. But she was not afraid of being hunted. She was afraid of killing her beloved cousins.

The crowd of women around her parted to reveal three old men. One was bent over nearly in half and leaning on a walking stick. Another had horrible scars on one side of his face and was missing that eye. The other had a hard jawline and milky eyes.

"We won't let them win," The man with the cane spoke softly, "If you can escape, if you can evade them, then you could get help," His voice trembled as he spoke.

Farfelee felt dozens of hopeful gazes on her. She looked at each of the men in front of her. What would they think of her when she returned, alive and well?

If she returned, that is.

"I know I may not look it, but I was a soldier in my prime," The scarred man stated.

"And I was a hunter. The best damn tracker this side of the elves," The blind man recounted fondly.

"I was a bounty hunter," The bent over man whispered, "We will teach you all we know. Sunrise can't be more than five hours away."

* * *

Brokul walked into the slave quarters, half expecting the Biter to be a snivelling mess. He was surprised when she came to him, wearing a set of pants one of the men had gifted her and a wool cloak. He lead her to the mouth of the cave to where Azog stood, watching the sun rise. The Defiler looked over his shoulder at the girl. She stood more surely on her feet. He could not see her eyes, for they were obscured by the shadow of her hood, but her full lips were set in a firm line.

**''Full lips'? What a strange thing to notice,' **He thought. He nodded towards a satchel and dagger sitting next to the path down the cliff.

**"Bring their heads," **he ordered, looking back to the rising sun.

Farfelee understood. She picked up the satchel and hoisted it over her shoulder, then picked up the dagger and felt its weight in her hand.

Azog listened to her steps down the stone path. He turned his head and watched as she made her way over to the river. She crouched down next to the river bank, studying something, then followed the river to where it was hidden behind a copse of trees.

The Pale Orc was alone again. He turned his attention back to the sun as it climbed over the mountains. He was one of the very few orcs that could stand the sun. He liked the warmth that the yellow rays spread over his skin. He had overheard a few of his kin joking that he did it so that his skin would become darker. He snorted at the thought.

His skin would never become darker.


	4. Chapter 4

"What are we going to do?" Krea barely held in a sob. "Farfelee's not going to kill us, is she?"

"What are you, an idiot?" Maerwynn spat.

"Maery,"

"Of course she's not going to kill us. She's probably dead. Sure, they _said _that they would make her hunt us, but that was to trick us into letting our guard down. They wanted us to think that they were sending our cousin after us. No, I'd bet my soul that the Pale One himself is going to track us down," Maerwynn picked up her pace to a jog along the river bank.

"Then what do we do? Where do we hide?" Krea squeaked.

"_We _don't hide anywhere. I follow the river farther and hide up a tree. You cross the river here and try to find a bush or something to crawl under," Maerwynn stated with an air of authority. Krea had no other ideas, so she stepped into the cold water.

* * *

The water soaked through the rags wrapped around Krea's feet. With every step she took the water climbed higher and higher, until it reached her waist. Thankfully, it didn't go any deeper. The doe-eyed girl clambered out of the river, happy to be free of that misery. Then she stepped on a stone worn smooth by the river and slipped, twisting her ankle. She cried out, holding the injured joint gingerly. She stood, trying to keep the weight off of her injured leg. Each step pained her as she hobbled into the trees. The dark night made it difficult to see where she was going, and Krea tripped several times, further injuring herself. Before long she was dragging herself forward, no longer able to bear the pain. Some divine being must have smiled upon her that night, for she found a place to take shelter: the entrance to a pit under massive, large leafed blanket of vines. The plump girl shimmied into the pit. It went back far enough for her to turn herself around at stretch out her bruised legs. Her vision was obscure by a few leaves, but she could see the base of a tree across from her.

Krea's eyes felt very heavy. She fought herself, trying to stay awake in case she needed to make a quick escape, but she ultimately succumbed.

* * *

Farfelee followed the pair of tracks down the river. The set on the left was deeper than the one on the right.

Krea.

At one point her tracks broke off and disappeared into the river. A glance at the far bank showed a large indentation in the mud, then an erratic set of tracks leading into the forest. She was injured. Farfelee felt a moment of indecision.

Should she go after the weaker, injured target? Or should she try to catch up to the faster one?

The hunter continued down the river bank, following the smaller set of tracks to a grassy clearing on the edge of the river. Dark spots of mud lead from the bank to the forest.

* * *

Maerwynn sprinted down the river, somehow managing to not slip. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Out of the corner of her eye she scanned the treeline, trying to find a suitable place to hide.

She found a grassy clearing and veered off into it, then into the woods. She was forced to slow down, trying to pick her way over knotted roots that arched up from the ground. A thin branch smacked her in the face. In her anger, she snapped it in two. She kept doing this to every branch that dared to stick out in her way, taking out three months of hatred on the innocent foliage. After successfully slaying sticks, she focused on searching for a tree to hide in. She found a suitable one with low branches and thick foliage. Maerwynn wrapped her twiggy arms around a branch, jumping to do so. She swung her legs, trying to find purchase, and scraped her knee on the bark, leaving a smudge of red on the gray-brown tree. Ignoring the pain, she climbed the sturdy trunk to rest in a fork in a large branch.

The raven-haired woman wrapped her arms tightly around one branch and began to weep, mourning for her cousin. She recalled all the times they had spent together, picking berries, tending their gardens, and flirting with the local farm boys. Steeling her nerves, Maerwynn grabbed a branch and snapped it at the base. It didn't come off right away, so she twisted and turned it until it did. It finally snapped off with a loud crack. Lacking a whetstone or a knife, she rubbed the branch against the bark of the tree, sharpening it slowly, but surely.

* * *

The hunter followed a path of snapped branches. She almost laughed when she saw the trail of destruction. It couldn't have been any easier if Maery had painted a big red arrow on the ground. Farfelee wondered whether the branches were broken in a mad dash for safety, or out of anger or carelessness. She was caught up in her wondering when someone dropped down from the trees and landed on her chest. The person stabbed her shoulder with something sharp. She struggled with the sheath of her dagger as the attacker stabbed her with the sharp object again.

The dagger was finally free, and, without hesitation, Farfelee stabbed it into her assailants neck.

Maerwynn coughed, blood flying out of her mouth and onto her cousin's cheek. The girls stared at each other. Maery was horribly confused. Farfelee was alive? And was stabbing her?

Farfelee watched in horror as blood dripped steadily out of her cousin's neck. Maerwynn fell to the side, dead as a doornail.

The survivor stared on in shock for a moment, before crawling to the corpse. As if she were a marionette, Farfelee began to saw at Maery's neck.

* * *

Azog sat on the edge of the cliff just outside the cave. It had been an hour since he had sent the Biter out to kill her kin. He would give her until noon before he came after her. But that brought up the question of what he would do if she succeeded. He considered executing her for murdering an orc, but then that would be wasteful if she was able to hunt down those closest to her and kill them on his command. Perhaps he could twist that into loyalty and use her to his advantage. She could sneak into villages undetected and scout out their forces. She could gather information, or act as a scout.

Azog frowned.

_If _she succeeded.

* * *

Farfelee waded through the river at a narrow point, sinking in to her ankles. The satchel on her back felt heavy. She never guessed that heads weighed so much. Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, she meandered down the river bank, on the opposite side from whence she came. After what seemed like an eternity, she reached Krea's tracks, still damp. Her path lead her into the forest. Several leaves were crushed and fallen twigs were snapped in large, girl shaped areas periodically. The river was still in earshot when she reached drag marks leading to a patch of ivy. There was a very obvious hole under the mat of vines. Krea had to be in there. But how to draw her out?

"Krea, Maerwynn? Hello? Help!" She called out, grasping her shoulder and limping dramatically in front of the hole.

"Farfelee, down here," A ragged voice whispered. Krea dragged herself out of the pit, grinning thankfully at her cousin.

"I'm so glad you're okay, Farfy. Maery thought you were dead! What have you got in that pack?" Krea babbled.

"Oh, uh, some food I stole," She slipped the bag off of her shoulders and held it at her side.

"Well give it here, I'm starving!" Krea snatched the pack away from her, opening it to reveal her sister's dead eyes staring at her.

Krea screamed. Farfelee stabbed her in the throat. Krea stopped screaming.

* * *

Azog's ears perked up when a scream rang out through the forest. It wasn't fifteen minutes later when a grey and red cloaked figure came into view. The Defiler was impressed. He truly didn't think a human could succeed in such a task, let alone a woman as young as the Biter. She trudged up the path to the cave. She dropped the bag on the ground, causing it to flop open and reveal two heads. Brokul happened to wander out at that moment. He was surprised for the third time that day by the woman he had captured last season.

"I did it," She declared flatly. Azog patted the area beside him. She sat down cross-legged, facing him as he faced the open air.

**"Well then, Biter, tell me how you did it," **Azog ordered.

"Tell him how kill," Brokul translated.

"I understood that, but what does 'Gajarpan' mean? I've heard you call me that before," She directed the latter sentence at Azog, who chuckled.

"Snake. Biter," Brokul explained.

Farfelee nodded and began to explain the events of the morning.

She told him how she followed their footsteps down the river, and of how Krea broke off and crossed the river. She told him of how Maerwynn had ambushed her, thinking that she was an orc.

Azog snorted. **"Small for an orc,"** then chuckled.

Farfelee smiled tersely and blew air out of her nose in a silent laugh. She continued to explain about how she tracked Krea and tricked her into believing that she was injured.

She continued to tell her story as the sun rose to its zenith.


End file.
